Broken
by WitchofNZ
Summary: Frodo has left for the Gray Havens. Everyone returns to their normal lives. Except Sam. He somehow has a feeling that maybe...just maybe...it was more than the One Ring that drove Frodo away. (This's rated PG just in case)
1. Wondering

Chapter 1

I suppose this story starts at the end of "The Return of the King". The white sails of the last boat drifting into the distance, Sam blubbering, and Merry and Pippin clinging to each other.

And then finally, with a few last shed tears, the three hobbits made their way home. Sam, to his lovely wife and two kids, Merry to his fiancé, and Pippin to his childbearing wife.

"All had been happy…except Frodo" was Sam's dejected thought as he made his way down Bagshot Row to his round green door, lost in thought.

And it was _from _this thought that Sam began to wonder. He wondered and wondered-even Rosie, his wife, said she noticed he was often in thought-until he came to the conclusion that it had to be more than the One Ring that drove Frodo away. Sure, the One Ring was pretty soul depriving, but enough that Frodo felt he had to get away? Heck, BILBO'd had it for 50 YEARS and it hadn't done anything to him except extend his age, nearly! But anyway, it was something else. And Sam knew.

You remember, of course, that Frodo had left with Sam his written book, "The Lord of the Rings"? Well, Sam read it cover-to-cover time and time again, but there were still no hints as to why Frodo had left. He had only written, "Sometimes you can't mend a broken soul. You just have to get away."

Deciding that this wasn't enough, Samwise Gamgee determinedly made plans to search Frodo's old home, Bag End, the next day to see if he could find any old journal of Frodo's. This wasn't to be an easy task, for Bag End was HUGE!! But Sam was determined to do it…for the sake of his master.

A/N: HI Y'ALLS!! This's my first fanfic**, **so I decided not to do something light and fluffy…no, that'll come later!! Anyway, R&R!! I might right more-IF UR LUCKY!! **Mwhahahahahaha**


	2. A Halted Investigation

            The morning dawned bright and early. Now, Being a gardener, Sam instinctively leaped out of bed the moment the sun had raised. He had planned to leave to Bag End the minute he had gotten up, so he was already in his shirt, pants, and patched vest.

Not even noticing that Rosie wasn't in bed, Sam crept out the door of the bedroom and down the hall towards the front door. He was almost made it, too. But the second he reached towards the door, a screechy voice from the opposite hall cried,

"SAMwise GAMgee!!" wincing, Sam turned to face his wife, Rosie Cotton Gamgee. She was only a few feet away from him, and she looked haggard and tired. Her normally shining blond curls were damp and limp, and she had big bags under her blue eyes. She still looked beautiful to Sam, but it was obvious that she was mad.

Baby Eleanor dangled from her hip, and 3-year-old Goldilocks was racing around her parent's legs in a wild figure eight.

"Yes, my dear?" murmured Sam, trying to avoid eye contact with those furious eyes.

"I have a PROBLEM, Sam," said Rosie, almost too sweetly.

"Oh?"

"YES, I HAVE A PROBLEM!! YOU!! LATELY ALL YOU'VE BEEN DOING IS MOPING AROUND THE HOUSE, READING!! READING THAT BOOK OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND TAKING _NOTES!! _NO HOUSEWORK DONE AT _ALL _EXCEPT FOR THE MINIMUM I CAN DO ALONE!!"

Sam looked up pitifully. He knew it was true, but he SO wanted to go to Bag End. Finally, he forced himself to say the dreaded words:

"Is…is there anything I can do?" Lighting up some, Rosie reached into a corner and pulled out a broom.

"Here. The front needs scrubbing. Go to it, dear!" chirped Rosie, dragging Eleanor and Goldilocks away.

Dejectedly taking the broom and thinking of old Mr. Hopkins, whose wife had him doing almost NOTHING but sweeping the front, Sam walked out the door.

Investigating would have to wait.

A/N: Yay!! Second chapter!! Do I hear cheers? Hey I got a review!! THANK U PERSON!! Well thank u MORGAN too…but this was a STRANGER!! Who actually LIKED my STORY! WOO-HOO!! :-D more later…


	3. Score!

            Once again, the day dawned bright and early. Only this time, Sam awoke as the first rays of light touched the soft green grasses of his garden. Only it was more rhythmic: Wake up, leap out of bed, run outside. He was only half-awake when he did it, so when his brain first opened up he was lying on the grass.

            "What the…" he murmured softly, but than remember. "Oh! Frodo! Right!" he cried, leaped up, and jogged down the road.

            Meanwhile, a quiet, sleeping Rosie Gamgee FINALLY looked at peace. She was smiling, which lit up her face in a way that had captivated Sam YEARS before he went on the journey with Frodo. And with a final sigh, Rosie turned over and snuggled into her pillow. Sam was safe…for now.

            Meanwhile, Sam had managed to reach Bag End in record time. He took a small break at the entrance of the grand hobbit-hole, gasping and wishing like heck that he'd brought some water. Everyone knew that Bag End no longer had water access.

            Finally collecting himself, Sam cautiously opened the door. Seeing as Bag End was never locked, it was often home to wandering beings, and one never knew when a wandering being could bring harm to ones self.

            Deciding it was empty, Sam turned to the left and walked down a long hall to a table trashed with papers of all kinds; maps, letters, stories…. they were mostly Bilbo's, but it couldn't hurt to look.

            About ten minutes later, a haggard Sam stepped away from the desk and decided that there was nothing of interest there. But he was now hungry and thirsty, so, taking a break, he took a bucket from the kitchen and filled it with water from a stream across the road from Bag End. He was going to make tea.

            And as the tea was boiling, an interesting thought took place in Sam's mind. Frodo's BEDroom! Of course! Is there ANY better place to hide things? Excited, Sam left the tea boiling and jogged down the right to Frodo's room.

            It was a large room, with nice wooden walls and a big feather bed. There were desks and drawers, all of which had been hastily emptied. Nothing was in those. So Sam checked the bed. Pillows-nothing. Pillowcases-nothing. Blanket-nothing. Under the bed-hmmmmmmmmm…

            From the dusty, unattended space of underneath Frodo's bed, Sam pulled a thin, black book, barely held together. He gingerly opened it, causing several pages to fall out.

            "Whoops!" he muttered, grabbing them and stuffing them back in. He couldn't afford to lose those pages. They could be important.

            The first page of the black book boldly stated, "Frodo's journal" and hastily scribbled below was,  "Tales of before AND after the journey of the One Ring"

            "Yes!" muttered Sam, "I've found it!" And he was about to run out of the house when the kettle started to boil. Muttering an old Tolkien oath, Sam rushed to save his tea.


	4. GOLD!

            Making himself a nice seat next to the fireplace with a platter of tea and crumpets next to him (yes, _crumpets,_), Sam steadily opened the little black book to the second page and began to read.

            (Frodo didn't date his pages, so it was kind of hard to figure out)

            "Hello, my name is Frodo Baggins. I live with my uncle, Bilbo Baggins, in our home, Bag End. It's pretty big for a hobbit-hole, I think even Mum and Pa could've lived happily hear with us…but they're dead. They drowned. Today I…"and on and on it went. It got rather dull, and I won't bore you with the details. But one name reappeared often enough to keep Sam interested- "Rosaline".

            He recognized Frodo and Bilbo's birthday party from Frodo's entry. He had sounded like he'd had a good time, until Sam came to:

            "She wouldn't dance with me. It was my birthday, and she wouldn't dance with me. I asked her repeatedly…I even BRIBED her…but she wouldn't. She'd flirt…and leave. Flirt and leave. That's her routine. But I love her. Curse that Rosaline!"

            Well, Sam dropped the crumpet he was holding in his hand and stared at the old, yellowing page in shock. He had hit GOLD!! Solid GOLD!!! He had never expected to get THIS far in the first search!

            But one glance out the window showed him that he should have been home HOURS ago. The sun was up and shining DIRECTLY DOWN ON HIM!!

            Muttering the oath again, Sam grabbed one last crumpet, dowsed the fire, grabbed the black book, and charged from the house with the crumpet dangling from his mouth.

            He managed to slip inside his house with one last swallow, but he slammed the door. Smooth, Sam. So much for being conspicuous.

            Almost instantly Rosie was by his side. She shoved a broom into his hands and hissed,

            "SWEEP!" before marching off in the direction of Baby Elanor's screams.

            Uh-oh

A/N: Hey u people who actually READ these author notes just wanted to say thank you for reading. I'm not really feeling myself today…I have a bad experience at a fair and, though the FAIR was fun, the "thing" ruined my whole day. And to make a long story short, I'm feeling downright MISERABLE. Thank you for your support, readers.


	5. The First Memory

            Thunk thunk thunk THWACK BANG thunk thunk thunk went Sam's sweeping as he mindlessly knocked over the birdhouse in their front yard with the broom in his hand. But Sam's mind wasn't on sweeping; it was on Frodo's entry.

            _Rosaline…Rosaline…it sounds so FAMILIAR!_ thought a frustrated Sam, nearly killing some flowers in his garden with the broom.

            But it took a few more dead flowers and a flipped "welcome" mat before Sam finally realized whom Rosaline was.

            You see, while racking his brain, Sam had come across a memory of Bilbo's 111th birthday. Everyone was dancing, having a good time. Well, Sam was actually moping at a table, eyeing Rosie and hoping she'd notice him…but he had taken up some sights through his eyes. While skimming the crowd, Sam had seen a sight that he hadn't much thought about until that day.

            Frodo was practically on his knees, kneeling by a very pretty hobbit-lass, and he appeared to be asking her something. The girl gave a small, cruel laugh and shook her head. Frodo asked again. This time the lass tossed her head and walked away, towards the de Boone hobbits, who had always seemed much more like short elves than hobbits. Frodo sat there a moment, looking dazed, but then let out a false laugh and, seeing Sam, ran over to comfort him.

            _That, _thought Sam triumphantly, _Must've been Rosaline! _

            Sam then focused on Rosaline, trying to remember her traits. She had been about 3 foot 5 inches, and she was EXTREMELY pretty. She had been VERY skinny, odd among hobbit-lasses. They sometimes had figures, but they were often well rounded, like Rosie's. But this hobbit was outright SLENDER. Her skin was pale, but not death-like pale. She had a very pretty, heart-shaped face and long, curly black hair which she combed till it SHINED. Her last trait was her eyes. They were big, and lined with elaborate lashes, sooty black. Her eyes, too, were black, but they were empty. Cruel and heartless. Sam hadn't actually SEEN Rosaline's eyes up close, but eyes like THAT you didn't have to see up close to realize their true intent.

            Realization of what Frodo had actually fallen in LOVE with gripped Sam.

            _Lord, how could he have been such a bloomin' idiot? _Thought Sam desperately, his heart filling up with pity. _That was no girl-that was a demon! A DEMON! Although…if she WAS a demon…I'm sure Frodo couldn't help falling in love with her…_shaking his head, Sam went back to sweeping. But it took him a second to register what had happened to the yard.

            "Oh, no…" he murmured, staring in horror at the battered bushes, the trampled flowers, the toppled birdhouse, and the over-turned "welcome" mat.

            He hurriedly started putting everything in place. The bushes and flowers he could do nothing about, but he quickly set up the birdhouse and flipped the welcome mat. Seizing a pair of hedge-clippers, Sam attacked the bushes in a vain attempt to make them look more _suitable. _But it was too late…Sam's round, green door was slowly opening, with the soft, kind voice of the Rosie he knew saying, "Sam? Are you out here? I'm sorry, I'm…WHA…????"

            Sam grinned sheepishly.

            "Hi, dear."

A/N: Ha ha ha! I like this chapter. And it's LONG, chickluveslotr, ok? Lol I may've gotten NO sleep since the start of summer break…but I've still posted this chapter!! Lol read & enjoy!


	6. Of Family and Discovery

                        For the next few days Sam basically turned into Superdad…he did EVERYTHING around the house, chores, helping with the children, gardening, and cooking, but he did those two anyway.

                        He had felt so bad when Rosie found the outside of her home pretty much destroyed…she had given him a weary look as though to say, "god Sam I'm TIRED of punishing you" and she then turned and slowly walked back into the house.

                        But the day he had walked into the kitchen with Rosie cooking and grinning at him, he knew he was free.

                        "Sam, darling, I'm so sorry. I've been a pig these last few days. Can you ever forgive me?"

                        Sam gave Rosie his biggest and hopefully most attractive grin and said,

                        "I think I might…" he then swooped her down and kissed her, despite the fact that she was giggling like mad while choking out,

                        "Sam! Sam! Stop…the CHILDREN!"

                        "This is a good example." Whispered Sam. He then turned to his young son and daughter, staring solemnly at their parents.

                        "Frodo, Goldi, I just want you to know, your parents are deeply madly in love and if you find someone you feel that way about, follow your heart." Frodo, being just a year old, continued staring. Goldilocks, on the other hand, began giggling crazily, much resembling her mother.

                        "What?"

                        "Nothiiiiiing," said Goldilocks in that sweet way that let her get away with anything. Sam and Rosie exchanged knowing looks.

                        "If you say so…"

                                                That night, Sam lay with a candle on his and Rosie's bedside table while flipping through the journal.

                        "Sam?" muttered Rosie blearily. "What are you doing?"

                        "Reading, Rosie, darling," murmured Sam back, taking away from the journal to stroke Rosie's golden curls.

                        "What are you reading?" her voice took on a suspicious note. "Is it that…journal you've been obsessed with?"

                        "Well…yes, but Rosie…"

                        "No, no, it's ok, I'm being a pig again. I'm fighting it though." Sam chuckled and slowly dragged his plump fingers through her hair.

                        "Rosie, you are as far from a pig as can be."

                        "Good night," was her reply, and she sighed and rolled over.

                        "'Night," whispered Sam, and he was so bowled over by that that he couldn't resume reading for a few minutes. But he finally shook his head and re-opened the black book. He noticed it hadn't been written in for awhile until…

                        "I just got back from the journey of The One Ring. But I won't tell you about that, it's all in 'The Lord of the Rings', a book by yours truly. But on to more important things. She married him. Those terrible de Boone hobbits, with their riches and pretty faces. They could be related to Legolas. They all have faces that look like they were carved by angels. And you may think that I have just fallen for Rosaline for HER looks, but that isn't true. Her laugh pierces my soul. Her smiles puncture my mind. When she changes her hair-for better or worse-I want to die. It's just not fair. Why isn't she mine? I swear vengence on Gregory de Boone, new husband of Rosaline."

                        Sam's mind raced. It was as though someone had hit the "rewind" and then "play" button in his mind. Memories came flooding back.

                        FLASH: Frodo walking up to Rosaline and Gregory after they had made it through the gate to Hobbiton, but Rosaline motioning that Gregory was her new husband.

                        FLASH: After the shire was safe, Frodo practically CRAWLING to Rosaline to beg her to reconsider. Her refusing, and laughing.

                        FLASH: Gregory de Boone walking up to Frodo, who was cornering Rosaline, and shoving him away with his fist and harsh words.

                        _Bloody hell, how could I have overlooked these memories???? _Thought Sam, horrified, when he was sure the memories had finished. But not quite.

                        FLASH: A crowd gathering outside the de Boone hobbit hole, while John Batherman and Keonard Ohman carried out a body. Even under the sheet it was a muscular, well-formed body. Splatted with red. The voices around whispering: "That's Gregory de Boone, that is." "Stabbed! It's despicable!" "Are you sure? Nothing like this has ever happened!"

                        FLASH: Rosaline standing off to the side of the crowd, sobbing. Gregory de Boone was dead.

                        _Bloody…bloody…_thought Sam, but even his thoughts wouldn't register. Gregory de Boone…dead? But Frodo wouldn't…I mean… without thinking, Sam dropped the yellowing black book on the ground with a bang. This woke up Frodo, who instantly began bawling. And woke up Rosie.

                        She yawned and rolled over, and instantly saw Sam staring into space with a mask of utter horror on his face, tears gathering in his eyes.

                        "S-Sam?" whispered Rosie tenderly, setting her hand on his arm. This seemed to break him out of his spell. Frantically scrubbing at his red eyes, Sam said,

                        "Heh-heh-must've woken up little Frodo…I'll go attend to him!" he cried, getting up and rushing out like the speed of light itself.

                        Rosie stared after him, but, figuring that she must be seeing things in the dead of night, she rolled over and went to sleep.

                        Sam, on the other hand, did NOT attend to Frodo. He instead sat at the edge of the crib, pondering and crying with his head in his hands.

                        "Oh Mr. Frodo what did you do?" he chocked out, looking up at the ceiling as baby Frodo wailed away. "What did you do?"

                        A/N: Yay!! Just write write write…plot twists!! YAY!! I won't give up the twisted ending…hee hee…READ AND FIND OUT!!


	7. A Bad Case of Silliness and Not

                        The next morning Sam made the firm decision that crying wouldn't solve anything; he would have to find out for himself what happened to Gregory de Boone.

                        _I'm not going to let ANYONE stop me from investigating-NOBODY!_ He thought fiercely as he marched to the breakfast table. Unfortunately, he was thinking so hard about it that he became a little-befuddled.

                        "Sam?" asked Rosie softly, as though trying not to laugh, while setting tea on the table.

                        "Mmmm?" asked Sam, scrubbing frantically at his bread with his knife.

                        "Feeling a little-absentminded this morning?" choked Rosie, grinning at him. Sam looked up rather disgustedly, due to his lack of sleep.

                        "Why do you think _that_, dear?" he said rather sarcastically.

                        "Well-um-you just poured orange juice on your toast, and now you're spreading it rather-wildly," replied Rosie, a little more sharply, to match her husband's tone.

                        "Wha…?" Sam looked down. It was true. There was a large puddle of orange in the middle of his toast, most of which was dripping through the bread and onto his shorts. But what he had been scraping had been flung EVERYWHERE. There were sprinkles of orange on the table, vase, and a few drops on a very startled-looking Goldilock's face.

                        And Rosie, reading Sam's expression, collapsed into laughter. Frodo, who liked to laugh whenever anyone else did, started too. Goldilocks just pouted.

                        Sam, hesitating, not sure whether to damage his male ego and laugh or storm out angrily, looked at Rosie.

                        "Attend to your child!" he said, much more superiorly than he would have liked, pointing at Goldilocks, whose face was beginning to smear with the running orange juice. Rosie, rather confused, looked up and, seeing Sam's angry face pointing at his 3-year-old daughter, nearly fell over laughing.

                        Still chuckling, she went and wiped off Goldilocks.

                        Sam scowled, glared at his family, and left the table.

                        Rosie looked up from her wiping and sighed. She had stopped laughing.

                        Goldilocks looked up at her mom and said,

                        "I guess Silliness isn't catching, is it, Mommy?" smiling again, Rosie continued to scrub at Goldilocks.

                        "Unfortunately not, dear, unfortunately not."

                        "What's wrong with Daddy?"

                        "He's-stressed. We'd best leave him alone." Rosie looked at Frodo, and then back at Goldi. "Alright, dears?"

                        Goldilocks nodded solemnly, and Frodo hiccupped. Rosie smiled. "I'll take that for a yes."

                        Meanwhile-

Sam, still mad, stormed out the door. Though the second he did-he felt terrible.

                        "Oh, dang…Rosie…" he murmured, turning to go back into the house.

                        _No,_ he thought to himself. _Why should I go back? I mean-did I promise myself that nothing would stop me?_ Sam shook his head. _It's the not same thing! I can still go back and apologize!_ He thought back anxiety. _Yeah, right,_ snorted his alter ego, _we're burning precious daylight. Let's GO!_ And this time, the alter ego won. Sam, slightly against his own will, began to move down the road to Bag End.

A/N: God I am so OUT of it 2day!! I kept putting Sam/Frodo slash in here b4 I realized that THIS WASN'T A SLASH FIC!! I'm also 2 damn tired 2 write anymore 2day. B HAPPY W/ THIS!! (roar) lol


	8. Old Men and Insanity?

Walking into Bag End without so much as a second thought, Sam slammed the door and started to walk into the hall. Turning ever so slightly so he could peer into the kitchen, he let out a startled gasp as he noticed a short, rather willowy old man bent over a boiling teakettle. At Sam's gasp, the old man jerked up.

"What in the name of Took is going on here? Who are YOU?" snapped the man, pointing a long, dirty finger at Sam. Sam looked at the finger and gaped openly.

"I...I..." suddenly Sam felt anger searing through him, giving him strength. He balled his hands into fists.

"I just so _happen_ to be Frodo Baggins's BEST FRIEND! If anyone has a right here, it's ME!! I should be asking YOU what you're doing here, you dirty old..." and Sam stopped, knowing his mouth would get him into trouble. But the man just cocked an eyebrow.

"Dirty, yes. Old, yes. _Kin_ of the Baggins's, yes. I have MORE so right to be here, sonny! But...glory me...you must be Sam." At those last few words, the man's words softened. Sam was speechless.

"Why...why yes, I am. But how did you know?? I've never seen you around here before!" The man chuckled and shook his head.

"Boy, I believe you're the only one in Hobbiton besides my dear relatives to have seen me. I would come in the dead of night, the Baggins would accept no visitors for a few days, and then I'd leave. I'm a very secretive old man, Sam, _very_ secretive. I know things about your dear Frodo that would make your hair curl!" Sam bristled, but also had a weird desire to laugh.

"Yeah, well, WHAT?? Your not the ONLY one who knows some of the Baggins's secrets!" Again, the man cocked an eyebrow.

"I know I'm gonna regret sayin' this, but...do these "secrets" that you know of have anything to do with an evil young lass named Rosaline?" Sam, knocked speechless at his good luck, nodded viciously. "Ah...well, you'd better come here then." The old man then beckoned and shuffled off in the direction of Frodo's bedroom.

"Wait..." Sam stumbled after him. Gosh, the man was moving so SMOOTHLY for someone so OLD... "wait, sir, I don't even know your NAME!" And the man, without even stopping, turned his head and gave Sam a wide-almost EVIL-grin.

"Oh, you don't need my _name_, what's a name? Nothing but people's referral to one another! No, no, you're much better off without it..." and the man continued to mutter inaudible things as they progressed.

_This man may be kooky, _thought Sam, _but he might provide valuable info, and I_ can't _risk losing that_.

Finally, they were at the bedroom. The man, smiling too widely to be natural, began to rifle through Frodo's chest of drawers.

"Hey...hey what...?" began Sam, but the old man was talking louder and louder, and Sam started to listen.

"I knew you came here at this time for a reason, boy...oh, yes, what a reason indeed. Good old Frodo..." and then the man launched into a series of high-pitched giggles, which never became a cough, unusual for most of the old people in this town. Sam, rather frightened by now, began to back away. But the old man spoke up again.

"Oh, no, my boy...you can't run away...no no no, that would spoil EVERYTHING...besides, you can't!"

"What are you talking..." cried Sam, fumbling with the doorknob, and realizing with horror that the door was locked. He COULDN'T get out! And now the man was starting to look more serious.

"Look, sonny, even if you COULD get out, I have valuable information on this Rosaline deal, and you DON'T want to miss that!" practically the SAME WORDS Sam himself had thought just a few minutes before.

"Um...um...yes?" stammered Sam. And this evidentially was good enough for the old man, who turned back to the chest of drawers and began rifling through again.

While he was doing this, Sam tried the door again. Still locked.

_Since when do the doors at Bag End have LOCKS?_ Thought Sam, rather mystified. But before that thought could grow, a triumphant cry from the old man protruded his thoughts.

"Ah HA!" he cried, pulling something out and holding it like a treasure. "I've found it...what I came here for...and what YOU are NEEDED for..." Sam was about to inquire what the man meant, but he saw what the man was holding and he choked on his own words.

In the old man's gnarled, dusty hands there was held a knife. A large knife; not even used for the kitchen, probably. The handle was short, thick, and brown. Sam thought he saw a face carved in it at first, but then it disappeared. The handle was long, shiny, and curved. But that wasn't what terrified him so much that he THUNKED back against the wall, staring in horror. Nope, what made him do that was that practically the entire front HALF of the knife was stained with blood. Not FRESH blood, but old blood. It was apparent that somebody had tried and scrub it off; some patches were missing here and there, and the blood was rather faded, but it was there. And, almost as terrifying, was that the man's gigantic grin had returned.

"Gregory de Boone's," said the man, turning his gigantor smile on the knife. "Isn't that just GREAT, Sam? Stealing something from another man and then MURDERING him with it? Ah, that Frodo was a genius, pure genius..."

"NOOOOOOO!!!" shrieked Sam, practically tearing the door off it's hinges. "No! NONONO!!" But the man's grin just widened.

"Yes, Sam, yes yes YES!" cried the man, still holding the knife like a treasured possession. "Frodo killed Gregory de Boone because it was the RIGHT THING TO DO!! Do you understand??" Those words had a spellbinding effect on Sam. He dropped his hands from the doorknob, and turned to the man. His pupils even seemed to be flashing different sizes.

"Y-yes." He replied shakily, and the old man grinned.

_Wait...why the hell did I say that??_ Thought Sam panickly. But the old man spoke again.

"Good. Now listen-killing that FILTHY de Boone hobbit was just a PART of Frodo's plan!"

_Yes,_ thought Sam, _filthy filthy filthy de Boone's_

"But, unfortunately, he had to go away before he could complete it!"

"No..." breathed Sam, his hands barely brushing the doorknob again.

"Yes, I know, it's scandalous. And that, my fine Gamgee, is why I am CERTAIN you are here."

"What...what...why?" asked Sam edgily, still wary of the man's sanity.

The man's grin, once again, erupted on his face.

"Oh, you'll know..." and before Sam could protest, the knife was in his hands. "Frodo wanted it done..." and suddenly, unexplainably, the man was gone.

"What the..." Sam wanted to drop the knife, but he couldn't.

_Maybe I'M the insane one_ he thought worriedly, staring at the very much real knife in his hands.

_Oh, you're not INSANE_ cooed a voice inside his head. That monstrous voice that had driven Sam away from his family that morning was back. _You're just...special. Now, down to business..._

_What "business"??_ thought Sam angrily.

_Why, what the old man SAID, of course!_

_But what did he SAY? _Thought Sam in frustration. _All he said was, "Frodo wanted it done"._

_Yes, he did_ replied the voice simply. Sam was ready to start screaming.

_Well, I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT IS!_ Screamed Sam mentally. _Frodo wanted WHAT done??_

_You know._ Replied the voice, and it sounded so incredibly evil normally Sam would've given a little jerk, but he didn't. He just stood rock-still. He DID know. And, silently, he turned and left, not even noticing that the door opened fine.

_Good boy,_ thought the voice, still rather evilly. _Now, let's go take care of some unfinished business of "Mister Frodo's..." _If the voice had been a real-life super-villan, it DEFINITELY would have started laughing right then.


End file.
